Life At Hogwarts - A collection
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Five very different perspectives on what took place at Hogwarts during the Deathly Hallows.
1. Torches In The Dark

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise in this nor any of the following one shots, that you recognise. **

**This collection is written for the Life At Hogwarts Competition, and also the Scavenger Hunt. None of the following oneshots are connected, but they do all take place sometime in the school year we didn't see while Harry, Ron and Hermione were off hunting Horcruxes. Enjoy :) **

**A/N - a few details in this, specifically regarding to Romilda's blood status might not be canon, but it worked to fit my story. So, if I'm wrong, I apologise.**

**Beta'd by the darling Michy, who is perfect. Any mistakes left are mine, and mine alone. **

**Also written for the Disney Character Competition - Ray - Romilda Vane.**

**Word Count Without A/N - 766**

**Torches In The Dark**

Romilda had been described as many things during her time at Hogwarts. Vapid. Silly. A dreamer. Such descriptions would have been correct before this year. This year, she could be described by very different words. Terrified. Scared. Frightened. They all shared the same meaning and yet, she would swear she could feel each of them in equally copious amounts.

Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts any more. The ghosts didn't stop to talk to the students, fearful of getting them in trouble. The teachers didn't talk to the students about anything outside of the subject they taught, fearful of getting them in trouble. The students didn't talk to the students at all, for fear of getting themselves and their friends in trouble.

Trouble at Hogwarts was dangerous these days. Detentions involving lines and cleaning classrooms or cauldrons were a thing of the past. Detentions now held horrors that before, only the seventh years would have even learned about. Unforgivable curses, whips and chains, nothing was too much for the new Deputies.

Professor Carrow and Professor Carrow. Two people who should never have been allowed anywhere near children were in charge of punishments. They took delight in them, cackled with laughter at the prospect of using the Cruciatus Curse on a first year student. The very thought made her shudder in horror.

The school year had only just begun. They were three weeks in, and already, the pressure to be perfect, to be well behaved, was mounting on them all. She was a half-blood Gryffindor, and in this new order, that made her a second class citizen. All Muggle-borns were gone now. She preferred not to think about where and why, because they all knew, so why torture themselves? Half-bloods and Gryffindors were the new targets, and being both, she was a prime target.

She sat in class and in the Great Hall with her head down, lest she draw attention to herself. She memorised her text books for when one of them called on her for an answer. She worked for hours on a single piece of homework, perfecting it, so they wouldn't find a reason to punish her.

Fun was a foreign feeling. She didn't even register the loss any more. Three weeks already felt like a lifetime, but those who hadn't learned the new rules quickly had found themselves in for a world of pain.

She was scared for herself, and she was scared for her friends, but most of all, she was scared for Hogwarts, and its way of life. Things would only get worse, that much was plain for all to see, and she wondered how much it would take before the first crack appeared in the foundations. Would it take the death of a student to make people see how wrong it was? And even if they did see it, would anything change? Was anyone capable of standing up to the monsters that had taken over their home?

Neville Longbottom was looking more and more likely to be the first crack to appear. He was walking around the school with his head held high, refusing to be afraid. She envied him the confidence and, more importantly,the courage it must have been taking him to do such a thing. She was thankful for him though, because when she watched him, it gave her hope, and she knew others felt the same.

She had heard him talking to Ginny Weasley in the common room, their hushed tones grabbing the attention of everyone present. They were trying to find a hiding place large enough for anyone who needed it to move to when things became too bad. The rush of gratitude she felt brought tears to her eyes, because it reminded her that even when they were surrounded by darkness, a few people could become torches to help others see the light.

With people like Neville Longbottom, and Ginny Weasley, there was still hope for the students who failed to meet with the impossible expectations of the new reign at Hogwarts. There was still the slightest possibility of getting away from the school alive. The merest of chances to escape to another place, another country even, to live life the way it was supposed to be lived.

Life full of fun, and laughter. Of talking with friends, or reading a book for the fun of reading, or dancing and running and jumping. Because life at Hogwarts was no longer a life worth living. It was harsh. It was exhausting. It was hopeless. It was darkness.


	2. Silent Help

**Beta'd by Michy, who is amazing. Any mistakes left are my own. **

**Word Count Without A/N – 582 **

**Silent Help**

Her library had always been her home. Her books the most important thing as she watched over the children who passed through, playing with them as though they were nothing. She guarded them fiercely, protecting them like a dragon would her eggs. Until that year. That year when the library became a safe haven for many.

She couldn't, wouldn't turn them away, as they hid amongst the stacks, burying themselves in worlds that weren't their own, trying to escape by any means necessary, even if only for a few hours. She wouldn't tell them to be quiet at they whispered to their friends, conversations they probably weren't allowed to have.

She would protect the students as much as she could, much the way she had protected her books for many years before, and would for many years after. Because she knew, in her heart and in her head, that Potter would prevail in the end. She had watched him for years, with his friends, with her books, and she knew he had the strength and conviction in him to do what must be done.

She would help Minerva, and Filius, and Poppy, who were the ones to send the students to the library in the first place. She would keep them as safe as she could, and she would allow them to learn and flourish if only a little, under her watchful eye. She would be strong for the students and for the teachers and for herself.

As the year crawled along, more and more children, for that was all they were, would come late at night, and she would sit behind her desk, and watch them pick books up at random. She remembered when she herself had done that as a child, anything to block out the horrors of life, so she let them, because it was all she could do.

As they noticed the difference in her, the older students crept towards her with scraps of parchment, asking for defensive spell books to be allowed out of the library without being signed out officially. She would allow it. This year. She helped them the way she knew how. She showed them the books with the best spells and knowledge, waving them away when they looked concerned at the signing out book.

She helped them prepare for the battle she knew was coming, and coming as a pace faster than anyone was ready for. She had seen it, and she knew how, and she knew why, but she didn't know exactly when, and anyway, who would believe her. She was Madam Pince, the strict librarian who didn't have much magic about her. She had never tried to discourage anyone from seeing her that way, in fact, she had encouraged it. She had seen the pressure it had put on her aunt, having the power to see, and she wanted none of that.

She had courage and compassion in that year, for all that needed it, with a small smile, a nod of the head, or even just ignoring something that she wouldn't normally. She had the knowledge in herself that this wouldn't be forever, and she would help as much as she could, without giving herself away.

After all, there was a reason she didn't want the Divination Classroom. She loved her books too much.


	3. Safe

**Also written for the Disney Character Competition – Pumbaa **

**Also written for the Hunger Games Competition – "Stupid people are dangerous." **

**Beta'd by the lovely Michy, and mistakes left are my own. **

**Word Count Without A/n - 902**

**Safe**

Eloise screamed as the spell hit her. Pain like she had never known, like nails being hammered into her body, from the very tips of her hair to her toes and everywhere in between. She didn't know how long they held the spell on her, it could have been seconds or minutes or hours, but she wished for nothing more than death, for her life to end so she no longer had to feel the pain these monsters were inflicting on her.

The spell was released as quickly as it started, but the pain remained, fading only a little. She fell to the floor as her bonds were released, collapsing in on herself as she curled into a tight ball and cried.

"Good, Mr Crabbe, very good. Outstanding, in fact. You may go," Professor Carrow cackled out, the voice of evil personified to all those who weren't Slytherin.

"Midgen, get up and out of my classroom, before I show you how painful the Cruciatus Curse can really be."

Eloise tried to make her limbs move, and slowly managed to get onto her, albeit shaky, legs. Moving as quickly as she could, she left the room, only to collapse against the wall as soon as the door closed behind her.

"Eloise?"

A voice from somewhere in the corridor had her looking around in terror, even as the rational part of her brain told her that an enemy wouldn't call out her name, especially her first name.

A young man crouched down beside her, and as her eyes focused on his face, she sighed in relief. Neville Longbottom. She hadn't seen him for a few weeks, no one had, though there had been rumours that he was behind the constant disappearance of students.

"Fuck! What have they done to you?" He asked, and she could hear the anger in his voice, even as he tried to stay calm.

"Cruciatus," she croaked out, the word hurting her as it seemed to scrape along her throat on its way to her mouth.

"Bastards," he spat, handing her a bottle of water. She drank gratefully, the cold liquid easing the tightness in her chest as it flowed down into her stomach. He laid a hand on her shoulder when she was finished, ignoring the little flinch and the accompanying apologetic look.

"Come on, we have to get you out of here before someone comes. Can you walk?"

She nodded, struggling to her feet. He wrapped a strong arm around her, half holding her up as he led her away from the corridor and up some stairs.

"Where are we going?" she asked, gasping in pain as aftershocks of the curse tracked through her body.

"Somewhere safe, where they can't do this to you again," he replied shortly, looking left to right as they moved through the corridor as quickly as she was able.

It didn't take too long before he was ushering her though a door she had never seen before, the bright light in the room making her squint her eyes as they adjusted.

People she recognised sat all around, talking in small groups, worried eyes in gaunt faces, all turning to look at her in concern.

"Parvati, Lavender, can you help her please," Neville asked, and they immediately came to her, softly mumbling words of comfort as they escorted her into a large bathroom.

They were so gentle with her as they helped her clean up, Lavender braiding her hair, as Parvati helped her get into clean, soft clothes. When she was feeling a little better, they led her to a bed close to theirs, helping her to sit down comfortably with lots of pillows to support her.

Neville sat down beside her, and the others all seemed to gather into hearing range.

"Who did this to you?" he asked gently, though the steel in his eyes remained. He had changed, she realised, from the sweet tempered boy she had known for six years.

"It was Crabbe. Professor Carrow ordered him to. Gave him an Outstanding, he did so well," she murmured, hating the pity she saw in people's eyes. She didn't want to be pitied. She didn't want to be thought of as weak.

"It's ironic that the two most stupid people in the school could suddenly be top of the class," a boy she vaguely recognised from Gryffindor spat out.

"Stupid people are dangerous, Seamus, especially now. Those two mugs will do what the teacher says and enjoy it, because they might be stupid, but they're also cruel," Neville replied. "There's nothing we can do about them right now, but we'll remember what they did to you, Eloise, and we'll pay them back for it."

She smiled despite her pain. "Thank you for saving me."

Neville nodded, and then there was activity all over the room, and Parvati and Lavender were beside her again, explaining that people were getting ready for the night shift. The ones pulling on black cloaks, with hoods, would be the ones out tonight, on the lookout for people in trouble, like she had been.

She watched in awe at the people here, all kids, just the same as her, yet they were fighting a war better than any Aurors could. Shaking her head, she allowed herself to sleep, dreams instead of nightmares filling her mind. For the first time since the first of September, she felt safe.


	4. Meeting Fate

**Also Written for the Disney Character Competition – Yzma **

**Beta'd by the wonderful Michy. Any mistakes left, are mine alone. **

**Word Count Without AN – 850 **

**Meeting Fate**

He'd known it was a mistake, coming back here. He'd known it would be safer to continue as he had, hopping from house to house, flying under the radar, staying isolated from his friends, but also from the danger of The Dark Lord and his sure to be successful takeover. He'd known he would regret it, but the temptation had been too strong to refuse.

Damn Dumbledore for landing him in the mess.

Horace Slughorn was a man of comfort, of living the easy life. He wanted peace and quiet, with as little drama as possible to distract from what he loved doing best. Collecting. He wanted to enjoy parties, and nice dinners, intelligent conversation and friendly banter. He wanted to be loved and adored, but never called on for anything more strenuous than a Floo call to the right person.

What he didn't want, was to be ruled with fear. He didn't want to be scared of talking, or looking, or even moving in the wrong way towards the wrong person. He didn't want to be forever asked to make Potions he didn't want to make, but didn't have the option to refuse. He didn't want to be recruited to the wrong side.

The summer had been a whirlwind of fear, leaving him scared to stay, but terrified to try and leave. Minerva had been by his side when the Dark Lord had arrived at Hogwarts with Severus, and she had held his hand as he shook with fear, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He was filled with relief that he wasn't expected to speak, because he was sure the ability had disappeared completely.

Now, with the school term starting, he could only be thankful that he still had his life. As Head of Slytherin, he was held in slightly higher esteem than his colleagues, not that it bought him any more leeway than they had. The new rules still applied to him, and he followed them to the letter. He spoke to no student about anything other than the lesson at hand, and he let the Slytherin students get away with anything they felt like doing, simply because they were no longer punishable.

He wondered sometimes, when he was tucked up in bed at night, if it would have been better to stay away from the school, but he knew wondering would lead him to nothing but regrets, so he tried to avoid the thoughts completely. For all he knew, he could have wound up dead like so many others anyway, killed in his own home, or someone else's, as the case might have been. He might still end up dead, though the thought didn't even bare thinking about.

The year crawled by, and each day, he became more and more assured of his imminent death. He could feel it coming, every day bringing it closer and closer. He didn't know how he would die, and he didn't particularly want to, but he knew he would. Harry was missing, and showing no signs of re-emerging. He was their only hope, and without him, Horace was sure that the Dark Lord would win.

Once, Horace entertained the thought of taking his own life, of dying on his own terms, but he knew he couldn't. He was a lot of things, but brave wasn't one of them. He was a coward. He hid behind the stronger people, he always had. At the moment, Minerva was his protector, and she had taken a few tongue lashings for him already. He felt safe with her, because he knew that the Carrows, and even Snape, were wary of angering her too much, lest she snap. Sometimes she seemed so close, it was tangible.

As the Easter holidays passed by, and more and more students seemed to disappear from the Great Hall and the corridors, the whole of Hogwarts' population grew tenser. Whispers about Harry were everywhere, rumours of appearances were spreading, despite the rules forbidding the mention of his name. A tiny ray of hope settled into the chests of those who wished to see the end of the reign of darkness, Horace included.

Harry had eluded capture thus far, for surely news of his death would have been spread widely and with much excitement by the Dark side, and if he could do that, maybe there was hope still left. Horace tried not to hope. He thought it best to believe the worst, because then he wouldn't be disappointed if things went badly. Or worse than they already were, anyway.

When the first morning of May dawned, Horace felt different. He felt change. He knew, with a deep certainty, that today, he would either die, or he would celebrate the life he could lead. He could only hope that it would be the latter. Either way, as he dressed in his comfiest clothes, he felt a calm settle over him.

Whatever happened, happened, and there was no use crying. He would meet his fate like a Gryffindor; for the first time in his life, he would be brave.


	5. It Could Have Been Her

**Beta'd by the incredible Michy. Any mistakes left are mine and mine alone. **

**Also Written for the Disney Character Competition – Gaston **

**Word Count - 758**

**It Could have Been Her **

She loved being back at school, away from the utter boredom of being home. Hogwarts was different this year, and she was sure if you asked anyone outside of Slytherin, they would tell you that the difference wasn't a good thing. She thought it was great. For the first time in over a century, Slytherin students were being treated as they deserved to be treated; superior to the others. They were, and always had been, the best, and it was nice to be recognised for a change.

Pansy, Head Girl this year, was loving the new Hogwarts. She was being treated like royalty by the other Slytherins, no longer merely Draco's plaything, she was actually /somebody/ now and the others looked to her to show them how to behave. The new Professors were teaching them, actually teaching, instead of the farce that had been lessons previous to this year, and she was one of the top students of the new order. Without Mudbloods like Granger around, she and her fellow students were able to shine.

Draco, she noticed, was rather quiet this year, but she paid him little mind. He had lost all respect he had in Slytherin House when word got out about his Father having his wand taken by the Dark Lord anyway, and really, she couldn't be attached to such a...loser. He walked around in a daze, all pale and tortured looking, and she found it embarrassing to think that she had once actually liked him.

Crabbe and Goyle had attached themselves to her, and while they were still stupid, she appreciated the protection they gave her as the year progressed and 'Dumbledore's Army' started playing stupid games that would do nothing more than anger Headmaster Snape and quite possibly get them killed in the process. The thought made her gut twist slightly, but she dismissed the feeling. She would complain about the house-elves later, it was obviously their food that was making her feel uncomfortable.

It couldn't possibly be that she didn't want the blood traitors to live, could it? No. It couldn't. Because this new order, the new way of life, proved that she was better than the rest of them, and that was what she had always wanted, wasn't it? A small doubt in her mind told her that she didn't want them to die to prove it, but she dismissed it as best she could, maintaining her belief that it was them in the wrong, and if they wanted to pull stupid stunts, that was on their own heads.

The problem she found, as time passed her by, was that the doubt in her mind just wouldn't be dismissed. No, in fact, it got larger and larger, until she couldn't deny it anymore and that scared her. She didn't want to doubt herself. She didn't want a conscience. It was easier, and surely safer, to believe in the words of the Professor Carrows, and to revel in the attention she now received. It was easier to ignore just how terrible Draco looked, to believe him shamed, rather than shameful. It was easier, but did that make it right?

Her ideology fell apart completely on one of her rounds. She saw a young girl with dark hair and dark eyes crying in a corridor. She was a child, no more than a second year, and it was obvious that she had been tortured. Blood was drying into her hair, her entire body wracked with sobs, and she had just been left there, like a piece of trash. She wanted to help, but before she could, she noticed a figure in black, dropping to the floor beside the girl.

They talked in hushed voices for a few seconds, before the figure stood, picking the young girl up easily. She watched as the person drew nearer, and the moonlight from a high window shone down on his face.

Seamus Finnigan.

He scowled at her, and she could see fire in his eyes. He was ready for a fight with her, if it became necessary, and the horrible truth of the matter was that he would beat her, hard and sound. She didn't want to fight. She wanted him to save that little girl. The green on the girls robe made Pansy feel sick to her stomach, and forgetting about the rest of her round, she slowly managed to make it back to the Dungeons, where she lay on her bed and sobbed. That little girl could have been her.


End file.
